


Super Misérables

by BookDragon6127, TheGothicFrenchFry



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crossover, F/M, Les mis x Supernatural au, M/M, Multi, The Family Business, dying, hunting things, saving people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookDragon6127/pseuds/BookDragon6127, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGothicFrenchFry/pseuds/TheGothicFrenchFry
Summary: "The method to the Amis’ madness is quite simple. Jehan  and Marius would be on the look out for new cases and when they found one, they would make the decision to either give it to the Winchesters, alert another group of hunters, or pass it along to either the trimulative or the dynamic trio of Bahorel, Cosette and Feuilly"(Basically its a Supernatural Les Mis modern AU crossover I'm terrible at summaries)





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

> Should I be writing the next chapter for 'One Gay More'? Yes. Should I be doing summer homework for my first year of high school? Yes. What to I do instead? Create another new fanfiction. Thanks to TheGothicFrenchfry for proof reading as well as helping creating a lot of the cohesive plot. Please leave kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed it!

 It was late on a Friday night and the Les Amis were celebrating a successful protest at the Cafe Musain. They were only high schoolers but were still trying to make a valid difference. Not many people were at the old cafe at that hour so the Amis practically had the whole place to themselves. An old jukebox in the corner play soft music as a handful of the revolutionary students danced. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre; the chief, the centre and the guide; were sitting together at the counter, laughing at an awful joke from Feuilly. The night was peaceful and everyone felt as if nothing could go wrong. That is, until a muffled cry of pain came from the kitchen. The Friends of the ABC fell silent as Enjolras stood up.

     “Monsieur Hucheloup?” the chief called out in concern. As he made his way into the kitchen, the others followed him timidly. Unfortunately, they were too late. As soon as they walked back into the kitchen, a guttural scream pireced the air and the students watched M. Hucheloup’s heart be ripped from his chest by a creature atop him. The teenagers panicked and screamed in horror.

 Cosette grabbed a knife closest to her and plunged it into the beast’s back several times before letting it stick. To their dismay, that seemed to do nothing but anger the monster. It glared at the group and began making its way towards them. The Les Amis slowly backed up until their backs were against the wall. Cosette grabbed another knife, this time so did Bahorel and Enjolras. The three tried to protect their friends as best as they could but the beast snarled and snapped at them. Enjolras made the mistake of taking a swing at the creature. The knife clipped the monster’s cheek but it lunged at Enjolras, swiping its claws at him and baring its mouth full of fangs.

 Before it could bite the student, a gunshot rang out and the beast dropped dead. Courfeyrac pulled Enjolras away from the corpse as Combeferre put pressure on the gushing wound that was across his friend’s chest and left arm. The Les Amis looked up as three men came out of the dark kitchen, one holding a smouldering gun. One of the men were significantly taller than the others. Another had a long trench coat along with a silvery blade and the third, the one with the gun, had a dark leather jacket.

     Surprisingly, Jehan was the first to speak up. “Who the hell are you guys?” The tall one replied in a gruff voice.

     “We’re the Winchesters.”

 

~Five Years Later~

 

Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre walked down the large metal staircase covered in blood. Enjolras dropped a machete on to the war room table were Bossuet and Jehan were sharpening weapons. 

“I may have taken this from the blunt pile,” he explained before going to clean up. 

Over the past five years, the Les Amis began hunting with the Winchesters. The students learned that there was an attack from a group of werewolves. They were trying to start Ragnarok. The attack killed most of the people at the city hall and destroyed a lot of the homes in town. The years of hunting made the Amis grow closer as a family but also changed them. They had to learn to kill and to lose people. Eventually, after much trial and error, they had found a good pattern. Jehan and Mairus weren’t the best killers so they basically ran the base of operations; the pair mostly handled research and making sure everyone was okay before, during, and after the hunts. Joly was the local medic and he worked in local hospitals which came in handy to spot odd cases. Feuilly, Cosette, and Bahorel were the ones who got the cases that required more physical strength because, in the most forgiving sense, not many of the other Amis possesed much of that. Finally, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre were the other primary hunters. They had a good chemistry together and fought like a well oiled machine. Combeferre has an oddly extensive knowledge on lore and a helpful background with first aid. Courfeyrac is always quite hyper and that keeps him alive on the battlefield. He seems to always be thinking one step ahead and has quick reflexes which have saved his friends many times. Enjolras is a charming young man capable of being terrible; he has a strong urge to help as many people as he can but also can be ruthless. Together, the three friends balance each other out and create an amazing team of hunters. 

The method to the Amis’ madness is quite simple. Jehan  and Marius would be on the look out for new cases and when they found one, they would make the decision to either give it to the Winchesters, alert another group of hunters, or pass it along to either the trimulative or the dynamic trio of Bahorel, Cosette and Feuilly. After that, the team would get what they need from Bossuet and then head out. While one group was busy, the other would be on deck, ready if there was another case. If both groups were out at once and an urgent case came up, Jehan and Bossuet would take it. Marius and Joly only hunted if they absolutely had too and they were happy with that. Once the hunting group returned, they would have their likely wounds treated by Joly and debrief the others on the case. If they could help it, Jehan and Marius tried to keep everyone home over the weekends to rest and recharge. 

Back in the bunker, after Enjolras left the room, Combeferre collapsed in a chair and cleaned the blood off of his glasses.

“What happened?” Bossuet asked as Courfeyrac stole his beer.

“Nest of vamps,” Combeferre said wearily. The other two looked surprised.

“I thought you guys were hunting a group of revenants?” Jehan asked quizzically. Courfeyrac downed the remainder of Bossuet’s beer before responding.

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’. “Those too. We saved negative amounts of people this week.” 

“Lost about 5 to the revenants and 7 to the vampires,” Combeferre explained.

“That explains both the blood and the lackluster chief,” Bossuet said, nodding towards the direction where Enjolras had left.

“Yeah, a four hour drive with  _ that _ in the back seat is always a delight,” Courfeyrac groaned.

However, the conversation came to a halt as Enjolras came back in the room. The hunter looked like someone had used a random character generator. He had on red and black flannel pants that were clashing against his white button-up. His hair was the true outlier; it was buoyant and curly and odd against the grim expression on his face. He was holding his right arm with a bleeding glash gingerly against his chest.

“Is Joly here?” He asked softly. Combeferre stood up and grabbed the first aid kit.

“He’s working. Here, I’ll fix it,” he offered and practically shoved Enjolras into one of the chairs. The older hunter cleaned the wound and  bandaged it.Without so much as another word, Enjolras just went back down the hallway and vanished around the corner.  
“Well he was chatty,” Bahorel remarked as he walked through in from the kitchen. “Was it bad?” 

The others nodded. This was not unusual for Enjolras. When ever they have a particularly bad hunt, Enjolras tends to shut down and blame himself for whatever happened. Usually it was Combeferre, Courfeyrac, or Feuilly who pull him out of it. This time it was up to Courfeyrac get Enjolras out of his funk.

When he went in Enjolras’ room, he found the blonde curled up in a ball on his bed. Before he could even say anything, Courfeyrac saw a newspaper next to him. The page was open to the obituary of Veronique Enjolras.

“Oh Enj,” Courfeyrac muttered softly. He climbed onto the bed next to friend and pulled Enjolras closer to him. Courfeyrac put a comforting arm around his grieving friend. “Wanna talk?” Enjolras shook his head and pushed away from his old friend.

“Go away Fey,” he muttered thickly. Courfeyrac sighed before getting up and left the room. He went back into the war room and found that more people had shown up. Joly and Feuilly had come back and joined the others as Combeferre debriefed the group. He was just finishing the story. Courfeyrac picked up right where he left off. 

“And now he’s isolating himself. And and his sister just died.” The rest of the group reacted in sympathy.

“Does he want to talk to anyone?” Feuilly asked. Courfeyrac shook his head.

“He’s Enjolras. He’s already shut down.” As if on cue, Enjolras came out yet again. This time, he was wearing black jeans and a black button-down along with his messenger bag. He barely acknowledged anyone

“I’ll be back later,” he muttered as he slammed the door behind him.

“Oh this’ll fun,” Combeferre sighed for the hundredth time that day.


	2. Crazier Than You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I be writing the next chapter for 'One Gay More'? Yes. Should I be doing summer homework for my first year of high school? Also yes. What to I do instead? Create another chapter for this. Please leave kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed it!

Enjolras left the bunker and drove out to the grave yard in their old town. The sun was sinking behind the dark sky by the time Enjolras found the newly dug grave. The granite stone was etched with Veronique’s date of birth and death along with ‘Loved Daughter. Family completed again in heaven.’ Enjolras placed the single daisy on the fresh soli. He wasn’t devastated over her death; they weren’t close when they were kids. However, it stung. She was the last connection to a time gone by. He left short after to find a bar to sulk in. Since he didn’t drink, bars were the last place his friends would look. As he was walking down the street, someone tapped his shoulder. Like an idiot, Enjolras turned to the source. The person grabbed and pulled him into the ally. The other woman was much stronger than the hunter and easily slammed him against the wall and his vision blurred. She hit him in the face several times with a surprising amount of force until Enjolras coughed blood over her purple crop top. She bared her fangs at him as the vampire snarled.

“You killed my whole nest. It’s only fitting I start destroying yours.”

Enjolras struggled for his machete before realizing with sinking feeling that it was still at the bunker. He steeled himself as the monster bit his neck. Enjolras waited for the second bite but it never came. Instead, the vampire was ripped off him by another hunter. She hissed but it was cut short by a machete slicing through her neck. Enjolras straightened his collar and looked over at the other hunter. He has curly dark hair and was donning a dark jacket over a green t-shirt. 

“You alright?” The mystery hunter asked. Enjolras nodded but he pitched forward. The hunter caught him and leaned him against the wall. The leader in red was on the border of unconsciousness as blood ran down his neck. “Shit,” the stranger cursed. As Enjolras swam in and out of consciousness, he felt the stranger gently help him to his feet. Enjolras fumbled for his phone and the other hunter luckily understood. The man clicked the Emergency contact and Feuilly almost immediately picked up. The last thing Enjolras heard before losing consciousness was his old friend’s voice.

* * *

 

“Enjolras?” Are you okay?” The voice over the phone asked. Enjolras. That was the guy’s name. Grantaire  _ had  _ been having a decent day until this point. Now, he was carrying an unconscious hunter that just got beaten to near death by a vampire. 

“Enjolras?” The voice asked again but with more urgency.

“Hi, this is Grantaire. Enjolras is currently unconscious due to a vengeful vamp. Where should I drop him off?” Grantaire listened to shouting and cursing on the other end of the line but caught an address in the midst of all that. He found the guy, Enjolras’ car. Grantaire slid the unconscious hunter into the passenger seat before getting into the driver’s side. 

About a half hour into the drive,  Enjolras groaned and sat up, disgruntled. 

“Hey there sleeping beauty,” Grantaire greeted, not taking his eyes off of the road. Enjolras’ glare could cut steel. 

“What the hell?” 

“You got beat up by a vamp. Your friends gave me an address.” The other hunter winced as they hit a pothole pulling into the bunker.  Outside the building, a redheaded man stood waiting. As soon as Grantaire stopped, the guy helped Enjolras out of the car. The blonde was wavering dangerously but his friend helped him through the door. Grantaire sighed. 

“It’s going to be a long day.” Against his better judgement, Grantaire followed them inside.

Inside the bunker, Feuilly all but carried Enjolras down the stairs. His vision was blurred around the edges and he kept stopping to cough up blood. When the pair finally made it to Enjolras’ room, Feuilly started to clean some of the wounds. 

“What happened, Enj?” Feuilly asked a little hurt as soon as he finished bandaging the last injury.

“Karma’s a bitch,” was all he had to offer. “Found a new hunter though.”

As if on cue, the man who saved him cleared his throat from the doorway.

“Hey. Uh, sorry but I need a ride back to the motel I’m at,” the stranger said. Feuilly squeezed Enjolras’ hand before getting up before getting up.

“I’ll drive you back.” Feuilly lead the guy into the war room. “What’s your name anyway?”

“Grantaire,” He offered a hand and Feuilly shook it. The pair got back into the car that was still parked outside the bunker. A few minutes into the drive, Feuilly broke the awkward silence. 

“Thanks for bringing Enjolras back. He’s going to be the death of me.” 

“Yeah,he does seem like a handful.” Feuilly nodded.

“You’re not wrong. Where do you hunt out of?” Grantaire shrugged. 

“Nowhere specific. I just bounce around.” 

“Do you hunt  _ with _ anyone?”

“Not exactly.” They pulled into the motel where Grantaire was staying. 

“You’re always welcome to hunt with us if you want,” Feuilly offered handing Grantaire a slip of paper. The other hunter took it with a nod. 

“I’ll call if there’s another apocalypse.” Without another word, the two hunters parted ways.


	3. The Dynamic Disfuctional Duo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is back on his feet and runs into a familiar face while hunting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING-Extreme Homophobia and PTSD in this chapter-WARNING*  
>  I promise a new chapter of One Gay More is coming. So far this is all I got. High school is starting in a few weeks so I will post as much as I can but it might not be much. Please leave comments/kudos!

Within the week, Enjolras was back out hunting. The trimulvate were out investigating a new case that Jehan gave them. They were in a city not far from Lebanon where there was a suspicious death of a local politician. The trio approached the security guard who was standing a few feet away from the cops.

“FBI investigating the death of Robert Scotsman,” Combeferre introduced to the man. 

“More of you guys? I guess Scotsman  _ was  _ a government official or whatever.”

“What can you tell us about Mayor Scotsman? Did you know him well?” Enjolras asked getting a scoff from the security guard.

“What can’t I tell you? I worked for him throughout his whole political roller coaster. He’s been in office for the past 15 year. He was elected mayor which was pretty good. I mean he helped the school systems a lot as well creating a lot of youth programs. By the time that re-elections came around, things were looking good. And then it hit a sharp turn.

He was accused of having an affair. Completely false but it still hurt his reputation. Then his wife got cancer and his kid was diagnosed with schizophrenia.”

“Damn,” Courfeyrac piped up. The security guard sighed longsufferingly. 

“You’re telling me. It was the same time too. Sarah always had imaginary friends and whatnot but after Alice got diagnosed it started to spiral. Unfortunately the situation got worse. Then, when Alice was down to a week left, Robert left out on a trip. By the time he came back, Alice’s cancer miraculously cured itself. No one really connected the dots, they mostly just marveled at the fact that Alice as alive. But, his daughter wasn’t so trusting. She said that her father did something wrong to save Alice but Robert blamed it on schizophrenia and had her sent away. His relationship with her was mostly not existent after that.” 

“Well thank you for that. We will let you know if we find anything,” Combeferre said with a nod as the trio left to investigate the crime scene. Courfeyrac began chatting with a witness whilst Combeferre spoke to the cops. Enjolras examined an EMF meter that he had under his jacket. As he was scouring the room for hex bags, another man walked over to him.

“Glad to see you’re conscious again Sleeping Beauty,” The other “FBI agent” quipped. Enjolras vaguely recognized the man as the same one who saved him a week ago. “Name’s Grantaire.” The man offered a hand to Enjolras who shook it.

“Enjolras. Are you investing the murder?”

“No, I’m here sight-seeing actually.” Enjolras glared at him as Grantaire lit a cigarette. “My bet’s a witch.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and went back to examining the room as Grantaire watched from the door. After a few minutes, Grantaire turned to leave when Enjolras called something out.

“You’re wrong.” 

The solo hunter turned back with a smirk. 

“What?” 

“I said you’re wrong,” Enjolras reiterated as he straightened up. “It’s not a witch, it’s a demon deal.”

“What makes you say that?” Grantaire challenged.

“Well first of all, the victim had bite marks indicating a hellhound. Second, there are no hex bags anywhere on the corpse or the room. Finally, the man died exactly ten years after his wife’s cancer miraculously vanished.” Grantaire slow clapping brought Enjolras back to the present. 

“That was impressive, I must admit but you missed something.” Enjolras furrowed his brow.

“What?” 

Grantaire revealed a small hex bag from his pocket. “This was in Mr Mayor’s suit.”

“But it can’t just be a coincidence. It’s ten years to the day and this place reeks of sulfur.”

“Well then, might I propose a team up?” Enjolras glared at him before sighing dejectedly.

“Fine. I’m going to visit Sarah Scotsman while the Combeferre and Courfeyrac go to the coroner's office. Want to come?” 

“Why not?” As the duo head out, Enjolras swiped the cigarette from Grantaire mouth and dropped it into a puddle.

“Hey! What was that for?” Enjolras gave him a steely bitch face.

“My hunt, my rules. No smoking.”

* * *

 

The duo showed up at Sarah Scotsman’s house later that afternoon. As soon as Grantaire knocked on the door, a woman with a small child on her hip opened it looking slightly exasperated.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking irritated. Enjolras pulled out his fake FBI badge and showed it to the woman. 

“FBI ma’am. We have some questions,” he said sharply. He and the woman glared at each other until Grantaire spoke up.

“If you don’t mind,” he added. “We just need some more information to continue the investigation after your father’s unfortunate death.”

The woman scoffed but let them in anyway. She sent the little boy upstairs after kissing the top of his head. She then gestured for the two hunters to take a seat on the couch.

“What do you want to know?” She sighed.

“We wanted to know more about your father’s trip while your mother was sick,” Grantaire explained. “I know that this must be hard to talk about but-”

“He made a deal with the devil,” she said simply. The two men stared at her until she explained.

“He told me that he sold his soul for my mother and that the demon told him that I was dangerous. So my father sent me to a place worse than hell until I was so damaged I was broken.” 

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Scotsman. That must have been incredibly hard. I can imagine-”

“It’s Ms. Vaudale, my wife’s name and, no; You really can’t. I was ten and my father sent me away to a girls school and into a conversion therapy program. I didn’t even know my mother survived until I turned 18 and got myself the hell out of there. It was literally torture for eight years of my life. I still can’t…” she trailed off and took time to calm herself. Enjolras gave her an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry ma’am. We didn’t mean to say anything to trigger any unwanted memories,” he apologized. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” She said. The two men got up and left the way they came in a few minutes earlier. Enjolras stopped as Sarah Vaudale came behind him. 

“I’m very sorry about what happened to you. I can’t say I know exactly what you went through but I have dealt with something like that in the past. My parents sent me to a conversion camp for a few months when I was young. I was fortunate enough to get away from them but I know many people aren’t as fortunate. Is there any other information about your father that might be useful?” He asked gently, so that his partner couldn’t hear. Grantaire looked back when Enjolras wasn’t behind him. Enjolras held his breath as he waited for a response. Sarah sighed and nodded.

“He had two secrets that only I knew. He had a secret lover who he went to visit that week and my mother was medically dead for two days before her recovery,” she admitted. “My father paid them off to sweep it under the rug. I hope that helps.”

“Thank you ma’am. We will keep you updated.” Enjolras handed her a card with a grateful smile. Sarah nodded and closed the door. Enjolras met Grantaire at the car and the pair started down the road. 

“So how did you get that lead out of her?” Grantaire asked, leaning back in the passenger seat. He saw Enjolras tensed and grip the wheel tighter.

“I sympathized with her. I told her a bit about my messed up childhood,” he explained with an air of sadness. Grantaire waited for him to elaborate but Enjolras didn’t.

“Okay, I’ll bite, what happened?” Grantaire sighed.

“Why would I tell you? With all due respect, I barely know you.”

“Well I did save your life,” Grantaire retaliated.

“So has an inflatable duck.”

“Okay  _ that’s _ a story for another day but what is the dramatic childhood trauma, first.”

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear this,” Enjolras said with a small nervous laugh.

“C’mon Apollo, let’s hear it. Lose your cat when you were a kid? You told it to a stranger once today already.”

“Fine, you want to hear it.” Enjolras tightened his grip on the wheel and jerked it to the left down the turn. 

“My parents were wealthy, abusive, and homophobic so when the one time I trusted them and tried coming out, I spent the summer between eighth grade and highschool in a conversion camp. After I came back, Combeferre’s parents called social services and I ended up moving in with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Grantaire stayed silent, feeling like an asshole.

“I’m sorry, Apollo,” he said quietly. Enjolras quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. An awkward silence filled the car until they pulled into the motel where Enjolras was staying. 

“Are you here, too?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire shrugged.

“Haven’t really gotten that far in the hunt yet.”

“You can stay with me if you want,” Enjolras offered getting out of the car. Grantaire was taken aback and climbed out of the car as well.

“Really? Aren’t you angry at me?” He asked suspiciously.

“No, your reaction was understandable. It’s just a mess of bad memories,” Enjolras explained. “You’ve been really helpful and we need to work on the case anyway.” 

“Well, I’m not one to turn down a free room,” Grantaire said shrugging. He grabbed his hunting bag and followed Enjolras inside. The motel room was covered with various papers and news clippings. 

“Damn Enjy, you need to keep a cleaner room,” Grantaire smirked.

“It’s Enjolras and do you want the room or not?”

“Chill out  _ Enjolras _ . I’m kidding,” Grantaire said, dropping his bag down on one of the beds. “Do you want to go out tonight?”

“What?!” Enjolras whipped his head around to see Grantaire smirking at the flustered expression on the blonde.

“To investigate the mistress. I was able to get her number from Robert’s aide and set up a meeting. Lucky for us, she’s a couples therapist who likes to start meeting in bars.” Enjolras took a minute to process the news.

“Wait what?”

* * *

 

Two hours later, Enjolras was in an outfit of Courfeyrac’s choosing; a black v-neck, ripped black jeans, his signature red leather jacket, and black combat boots. He squirmed self consciously as he waited for Grantaire at the bar. When the other hunter showed up, Enjolras felt his cheeks turn pink. Grantaire was in a dark green button up with quite a few undone buttons, black jeans, aviator glasses, and black biker boots.

“Hey Apollo, you look good,” Grantaire commented, looking the hunter up and down. Enjolras blushed a bit under the look. 

“Thank you. So do you. Where’s the woman we’re meeting?” he said quickly, hoping the lighting would hide his rose colored face.

“Thanks Apollo. She should be here somewhere… Ah, there she is!” He waved at a woman sitting not too far away in a booth. Grantaire threw his arm around Enjolras’ shoulder and led him over to the booth.

“Ah Grantaire! Wonderful to see you again,” She greeted, hugging him. ‘ “Great to see you too, Ann. This is my fiance, Enjolras,” Grantaire introduced. Enjolras kicked him under the table but shook Ann’s hand. 

“Well, I hope I can help you guys. Let’s get something to eat than we can head over to my office,” she suggested.

“I must admit your methods are slightly unorthodox but then again, I don’t always understand these things,” Enjolras commented. Ann smiled at him.

“You have a point. I don’t typically do this, but Grantaire asked to meet here first,” she explained. A moment of realization dawned on Enjolras and he kicked Grantaire again.  This time Grantaire wrapped his arm around Enjolras’ waist and pulled him closer as a retaliation. The group ate some appetizers and then decided that the couple would see Ann the next day.

When they got back to the motel, Grantaire burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, that was amazing!” He cackled, pulling off his glasses.

“You’re a jackass,” Enjolras grumbled, pulling off his jacket.

“I can’t believe that worked! A therapist that met at bars!”

“You could have just said you knew her,” Enjolras huffed.

“She’s a friend of a friend,” Grantaire shrugged. “She only agreed to meet me with my fiance.”

“I hate you,” Enjolras groaned and stormed off towards the bathroom. Grantaire caught him by wrapping an arm around his waist and spinning him around, a few inches from his face.

“That’s why we need couple’s therapy, love,” he purred, causing Enjolras to blush. Grantaire burst out laughing again and let Enjolras go. The latter hurried into the bathroom to change into his pajamas. When he came back out, Grantaire picked up his laughing.

“Oh my god E! You’re killing me tonight!” Grantaire laughed. Enjolras looked down at his clothes and glared at Grantaire.

“What? It’s a pair of Star Wars pants and my  Wicked cast shirt,” Enjolras asked.

“Yeah, Enjy. Star Wars and and Wicked! I would never have guessed that you were a  _ theater kid _ ,” he mocked. Enjolras rolled his eyes and climbed into his bed.

“Good night, Grantaire,” he huffed again.

“Night Apollo,” Grantaire said turning off the lights.


	4. As Long as Your Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally did not forget that I need to update this. Never. Anyway, here's the fourth chapter so please, leave kudos/comments if you like it!

The next morning, Enjolras and Grantaire went to Ann’s office. Enjolras opted to not take Courfeyrac’s advice this time. He just had his  _ Moulin Rouge _ shirt and red hoodie on. Grantaire had on the same outfit as last night but with a jean jacket as well. As they walked into the office, Grantaire leaned over to Enjolras and whispered into his ear.

“Remember to act the part, if you permit it.” Enjolras smiled and grasped Grantaire’s hand. Ann greeted them at the door and guided them inside.

“How can I help you, boys?” She asked sitting across from the sofa where the duo sat. 

“Well,  _ Enjolras _ doesn’t believe in me,” Grantaire explained looking over at his partner.

“If we’re getting into it then  _ Grantaire _ doesn’t respect my opinions,” Enjolras retaliated. 

“Well I know Grantaire already, but I want to know more about Enjolras. Grantaire, how about you wait in my office and Enjolras and I will talk in here,” she said, gesturing to the sitting room they were in. Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged a look of surprise over their good fortune. 

“I’ll see you later than, Apollo.” Grantaire lightly kissed Enjolras’ cheek and a deep blush filled Enjolras’ face. The former left the room and Ann faced Enjolras.

“Now Enjolras, so far, you strike me as someone with bottom of the barrel self esteem issues,” she said bluntly.  “Let’s get to the crux of that starting with these scars.” She pointed to the marks on Enjolras’ left arm. “I’m going to guess they are from hunting. Am I right,  _ Winchester _ ?”

Enjolras panicked and jumped up but the woman flicked her wrist causing  Enjolras to be slammed against the wall, breaking the mirror. The therapist’s eyes turned black and she laughed menacingly. Enjolras staggered to his feet and flung holy water that he brought with him towards the demon. He ran out of the room and grabbed Grantaire, who was reading a magazine.

“Demon! Time to go!” He shouted as he ran from the building. They jumped in the car and Grantaire sped down the street. When got back to the motel, Enjolras flopped down on the bed. Grantaire pulled a beer from the cooler he brought and downed half of it. 

“Hey Enjy, move over,” he ordered. Confused, Enjolras shifted over nonetheless. Grantaire ran a hand through Enjolras’ hair and the latter flinched away.

“You’ve got some glass in your hair,” Grantaire explained nonchalantly. “And blood apparently,” he added raising an eyebrow. “What the hell happened?”

           “ _ Ann _ used me to break a mirror,” Enjolras huffed. Grantaire got up and grabbed a first aid kit from the counter. He sat back down across from the blonde and examined his face until he found the few bleeding cuts. He covered them with butterfly bandages and then ran a hand down the hunter's injured forehead.

            “Well, you're no longer bleeding but there is still a concerning amount of glass in your hair,” Grantaire quipped. He grabbed a brush from the night stand. “May I?” Enjolras nodded and shifted so that the other hunter could reach. Grantaire began running the brush through Enjolras’ blonde hair gently, the leader in red only wincing whenever it caught a knot. 

After about ten minutes, Grantaire cleared his throat and pulled the brush away from Enjolras’ hair. 

“I think that’s all the glass. How’s your head?” He asked. Enjolras shrugged. 

“It hurts a bit but I’ll live. I’m mostly just pissed that we don’t know what killed the mayor.” Grantaire groaned and flopped down on the bed.

“I almost forgot about the hunt,” He huffed.

“How did you ever hunt before?” 

When Grantaire just shrugged, Enjolras continued and started to pace in circles on the hotel carpet. 

“Okay, let’s go over what we know. First, it’s obvious that  _ someone _ sold their soul but who is the question. It would make sense for it to have been Scotsman but if he was seeing someone else, then saving his wife wouldn’t be the best idea. However, Ann _ was _ a witch but then got possessed by a demon but we don’t know when. She could have possessed him during the wife’s dying day then forced the mayor to make a deal. But then there was a hex bag on Scotsman when he died as well as the obvious marks of a hellhound. Another lead to look into would be Sarah-”

“Okay, slow down Apollo,” Grantaire said holding up a hand. “You’re going to pace a hole into the floor. Why Sarah?” Enjolras stopped moving and open the folder of everything they found on Sarah Vaudale.

“She might be a psychic.” Grantaire got up and peered over the blonde’s shoulder. 

“Like Magda Peterson,” he supplied. 

“Exactly. There are a few other people we need to talk to. Namely, Mrs. Scotsman and Julia Vaudale.”

“Well this is perfect,” Grantaire huffed as he and Enjolras stood in their fed suits looking over the grave of Mrs. Scotsman. 

“It says that she died three weeks ago in a car crash. Why didn’t anyone mention this?” Enjolras muttered to himself.

“I don’t know, maybe because no one cares?” Grantaire suggested sarcastically. Enjolras glared at him and flipped open another folder. 

“Then Julia Vaudale it is.”

The pair drove to the Vaudales’ house and knocked on the door. To their good fortune, it was not Sarah who opened the door. A woman in her late twenties with curling red hair and bright green eyes stood in front of the two. 

“Can I help ya boys?” She asked with a slight Irish accent. 

“Hello ma’am, we’re here to ask a few questions about your father-in-law’s death,” Enjolras explained. The woman sighed and let them in.

“What do you boys want to know?” She asked solemnly.

“We were curious if you knew anything about how Sarah dealt with it. Primarily in the violent sense,” Grantaire prompted. Julia laughed quietly.

“She hates her parents but could never bring herself to do anything. I, on the other hand, had the power and ability.” She threw a hex bag at the boys and, on instinct, Grantaire caught it and was frozen in place. Meanwhile, Enjolras charged the witch and pulled out the witch killing bullets. Julia threw another hex bag at the hunter and said.

“Age nunc intellectum. Age nunc intellectum atque voluntatem omnem meam,” the witch chanted. The spell sent out a deafening ringing that cause Enjolras’ to stop short and collapse before he had the chance to do anything. From the doorway, Grantaire managed to burn the hex bag and ran in after Enjolras only to find the witch had left. The issue that took a majority of his concern was the other hunter.

Blood was running from his ears and he was unconscious on the ground. Grantaire crouched down next to Enjolras. He carefully picked him up and carried him out to the car. He drove them back to the motel and laid Enjolras in his bed. After Grantaire cleaned the blood away, Enjolras groaned and opened his eyes. 

“R?” He asked groggily. He forced himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“You are just a disaster magnet, huh Apollo?” Grantaire smirked gently. “You got knocked out by a witch.”

“Ugh, that explains the splitting headache and ringing in my ears,” Enjolras huffed. He stumbled over to the counter and downed a few Advil. 

“Ready to kill a witch?” He asked shaking slightly. 

“Enj, I think that you need to rest. I’m willing to bet $20 that you have a concussion and I know that you’ve got a hell of a headache,” Grantaire argued, stabling the hunter. “Let’s call your friends and they can handle it. The witch knows that we’re coming.”

Enjolras glared at the other man but folded. 

“Fine. I’ll call Combeferre.” He left the room as he dialed his friend. When he finished telling Combeferre about the case, he dejectedly came back in the room to find an odd sight. Grantaire had pushed both bed together and laid out a couple snacks on the beds. He was flipping through channels when Enjolras came back. 

“What?” Was all that Enjolras could make out. 

“I figured that we can’t leave because of the witch so we might as well watch a movie or something,” he said with a shrug. Grantaire shifted over so that Enjolras could sit next to him. The movie that was finally decided on was  _ Reservoir Dogs _ . 

“Huh, I haven’t seen this,” Enjolras admitted. Grantaire looked at him as if he slapped him. 

“ _ Really _ ? You haven’t seen this? That is unacceptable!” He exclaimed in mock offense. Enjolras laughed and opened a bag of Oreos. The pair watched the movie in mostly silence. Every so often, the blonde would jump when there was a particularly jarring part and Grantaire would laugh. At one point, Enjolras flinched so hard that he spilled the Oreos. Grantaire barked out a laugh and wrapped an arm around the hunter. 

“It’s okay, Apollo, I got you,” he said half jokingly. Enjolras relaxed slightly and just tried to focus on the movie and not the blush on his face. After the movie was over, Grantaire went back to flipping through channels. 

“Please tell me you’ve seen  _ Titanic _ ,” Grantaire asked and when Enjolras shook his head he gasped overdramatically. 

“Then we are watching it.” 

Over the few hours the pair shifted together and watched the screen intently. When Jack died, Enjolras was actually crying. Grantaire smiled and gently kissed Enjolras cheek. The hunter looked startled but Grantaire defended himself. 

“I saw you this weekend. If I’m wrong then I’ll go hunt somewhere else. If I am right, I’ll ask to hunt with you guys,” Grantaire said softly. “What’s the verdict, Apollo?” Enjolras kissed him and Grantaire carded a hand through the blonde’s hair. They stayed like that until a knock sounded from the door. They jumped apart as Combeferre opened the door. 

“Hey Enj, we got the witch. Luckily Sarah wasn’t too broken up about it. Who’s this?” He asked pointing to Grantaire. 

“This is Grantaire. He saved me from a vamp a few weeks back and we were working the case together.”

“And that’s not the only thing,” Courfeyrac said mockingly from behind Combeferre. If looks could kill then Courfeyrac would be dead from  Enjolras' glare. 

“Time to go then,” Enjolras said pointedly. He was able to clean up his equipment in two minutes and then he met the others the door. 

“Come by the bunker tomorrow morning, 5am,” Enjolras muttered under his breath before offering a hand to the other hunter. Grantaire shook it with a sly smirk on his face. 

“Until tomorrow, Apollo.”


End file.
